heat

A little drawing from my sketchbook.

Today is day two of our little "heat wave" here in NYC. Yesterday the heat index was over a hundred. Luckily for me, I was kidnapped in the late afternoon by friends, and whisked off to Jacob Riis park, where there is a lovely beach.
Upon returning home, my little fifth floor apartment was resembling toaster oven. I'm very happy to finally count myself among the air-conditioned, if only in one room. Genius invention!

The pumpkin vines, on the other hand, are not so lucky. They wither in this heat.

A Shetland in Brooklyn

Independence Day, a hot and sunny wander to the other end of Prospect Park; finally seeing the Kensington Satbles, and surprised. I admit, I did expect there to be some green space (at least some dirt!), only to find a shockingly urban home for these horses, with the usual sidewalks and streets surrounding. Not surprising that they are utterly unperturbed by traffic and other city things the likes of which would terrify the horses with whom I grew up. The stable was a run-of-the-mill city building, converted for this unexpected use- the lack of windows and places for air to get in was disheartening. Having grown up on a farm where the animals had so much space, it is hard for me to see the way that some city animals live, but I suppose a lot of people think the same about the ways we city people live.

more green.

pumpkin flowers


wildflowers

Although the vines suffered a bit from my being out of town last weekend (and unable to water them- they were shriveled when I returned!), they are still going strong, and several pumpkin flowers have appeared! So exciting. I thin by autumn there will be no room for me out there at all; I've had to bring them back from hanging over the edge before they become too large and inflexible.

the green monster

The pumpkin vines have been busy converting rain into massive leaves this past week, and have climbed over the edge of their own accord. I shall have to restrain them once the pumpkins themselves begin to appear. Imagine the lawsuits I could be subjected to were one of the gourds to fall on the head of an unexpected passerby.



view from below

Cthulu

So. I looked up this Cthulu on the (incredibly erudite) world wide web, and he was a sort of octopus-looking thing; an evil god. (I knew he was some bizarre confection from the mind of H.P. Lovecraft, but that's about it). As it happens, in the dream he was a man; an extremely diminutive man (around ten inches tall), in a brown suit.

rain.

I've been out walking, and have gotten thoroughly, pleasantly soaked. A circuitous route around the Slope, some of it through the park on this wet blue evening, and it felt so great to ignore the rain and be drenched. Even my hat, whose office it is to keep my head dry, was soaked clean though like that day back in the winter, freezing in lower Manhattan. The rain this day reminded me of Edinburgh, though, beginning as a mist, then effecting a long slanted crescendo.

The pumpkin vines are creeping over the edge; flirting with gravity, testing their limits.

There was a dark biological thing in a dream this morning, inside of which resided a tiny living Cthulu (?). The thing had the power to latch onto living things (it was a beast of some unfamiliar sort in the dream)- sort of latch on and insert a rigid tentacle into the spine of the beast, thus becoming a controlling parasitic addition, like a pilot or a puppeteer.

I told Ben about it and he said, "There's an interpretation for that dream... what was it? Oh, yeah-- it means you're a FREAK." I'm pretty sure he's right about that.

first flowers!

First wildflowers have just appeared since yesterday! Very exciting. Basil is gorwing nicely, if slowl ( little does it know it will one day be delicious pesto...) And, of course, the pumkin vines are monsters. When first they began growing, there were nine of them! I uprooted some, but the rest continued to grow ravenously. Last week I cut away all but these two. They must battle it out to see who will be the remaining vine, as there isn't room for two in this town.

month of may.

Today and yesterday had beautiful weather, and me stuck in front of a computer. Work.

Memorial Day weekend has arrived.
I've begun work on a new book. Book number two. A book is a more interesting project than a calendar, but much more challenging, to say the least. This one shall have more writing than A Collection of Surmised Grotesques did.

I have also done some work toward the end of redesigning the electrofork site. Much preparation must be done though- there is a lot to do, really, as it will be nearly completely new.

I've really nothing much to type about right now. Not in the mood.

so fast

Now, with furniture! In the large planter little pumpkin leaves can be spied coming through the dirt...!


green onions growing

So here we are arriving at the end of another month- madness! The sproutlings out on the veranda are doing nicely, and finally the pumpkin vines have made an entrance. *yay*

eloquent surrealism.

Spam, on the whole, is one of the more irritating aspects of being digitally connected, but this is pretty entertaining (especially as it wasn't pushing knockoff pharmaceuticals or cheap software):

"Now and then, the secretly overpriced particle accelerator requires assistance from a lazily temporal skyscraper. When you see a grizzly bear defined by an eggplant, it means that a spider takes a coffee break. A cantankerous sandwich has a change of heart about the globule about an anomaly, but the deficit of a chestnut tries to seduce a mastadon. Some ball bearing self-flagellates, and the tattered parking lot rejoices; however, an infected apartment building brainwashes the polar bear."

green things growing

wheat grass


wildflowers


green onions

Front garden at five storeys. You should see it at sunset.

tenth april

Monday again. Yesterday during the newly extended sunshine hours, I spent some time on the "veranda" (read: the roof of the bay window belonging to the apartment on the floor below), planting things in window boxes and wee terra cotta pots. The roster of hopefuls: one window box wildflowers, one pot basil, a handful of small pots of green onions, and the piece de resistance: one large box planted with what shall hopefully grow into a mad pumpkin vine. The wildflowers are largely non-native (tsk tsk), so perhaps they shall become cuttings for vases before allowed to go to seed and spread their insidious foreignness amongst the foliage in the park... And lastly, one window box wheat grass; by this evening the lazy seeds had finally exerted enough strength to muster sprouts, so they went into the soil as well.

Whilst out on said precipice yestereve, I washed the exteriors of the windows, greatly enhancing the view at sunset. Unfortunately, being an impatient 'tard, I pulled one of the screens down to get at the top glass -down too far!- thus locking me out of my own living room. Brilliant. The screen had to suffer some damage (bent frame) in order for me to get back in.

As things begin to show green tendrils, I will begin collecting photographic evidence of progress.

flaky weather

April Showers

Yesterday's morning: bright sun and pleasant. Sky, at length, darkened and unleashed a half-hearted sort of rain. Then, in an instant, the rain (having become bored of its own properties perhaps) turned to snow-- BIG SNOW. Lasting only a couple of hours, by afternoon it was seemingly Springtime again: sunny and dry.

escape from digital

Overpass in rain

Catharsis. A charcoal drawing, 18"x24". Haven't used the medium in over a decade; forgotten how blackened the hands get. My eraser is indistinguishable from the bits of charcoal now as well, save by its shape.